


Christmastime

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [516]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, tag sesa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: I got some delightful art from yllamse on tumblr for the TAG SeSa for 2017 and I had to write some snipsadmire the art here





	Christmastime

1) “What kinds of cookies does Santa like?” Alan’s eyes were glued to the oven door, where inside the food processing systems were carefully browning the contents of the tray to golden perfection.

Perched on a kitchen stool, Virgil was reaching carefully for the fruit bowl.  He had carrots laid out for the reindeer, but Sammy at school insisted they should have a banana.  Virgil was unconvinced, but for Santa, he’d happily cover all his bases.  “I think he likes all cookies.  With milk.  The milk is important,” he added almost absently as he finally snagged his yellow prize.

He’d forgotten about the conversation, phantom reindeer dancing in his head as he curled up, warm and sleepy under the covers.  A tiny, cold hand yanked him back.  “Virgil, Virgil,” Alan sniffed, appearing up over the side of the bed.  “We forgot the milk.”

“Mama will get it.” But Alan’s lower lip just started to tremble, and so with a sigh, Virgil threw back his covers and let in the chilly night air.  Hand in hand, they padded back down the stairs.  As a reward, Virgil let Alan carry the glass through to the living room, to be set carefully next to the enticingly golden cookies.

“He hasn’t been yet,” Alan sighed with relief, dropping down under the tree to stare up at the sparkling lights.

“We’re not waiting up,” Virgil warned, even as he sank down onto the carpet himself.  The embers of the fire were keeping this room warm, and the stairs back up looked dark and cold.

“Do you think we’ll hear him?” Alan asked, curling up like a cat, eyes glowing in the reflected lights of the tree.

Virgil matched Alan, a whispered conversation in the long dark night.  “Maybe. I wonder what a reindeer sounds like?”

When Jeff crept downstairs, a sack over his shoulder, he paused at the two mice out of bed, curled up and sound asleep, a wrapped box for a pillow. Setting aside his Christmas bundle, Jeff took a quick photograph before scooping up his youngest son.  “Santa?” Alan slurred, more asleep than awake.

“Ho ho ho,” Jeff murmured, kissing the side of his cheek.  “Merry Christmas.”

2) (I was toying with a Ridley prompt and then I GOT A BONUS RIDLEY)

“Fancy seeing you here?”

John looked up, steaming paper cup halfway to his lips.  “Stalker,” he says fondly.

Ridley laughed, brushing the snow off the bench before claiming her perch. “Says the guy who sees you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake…”

John swallowed despite the burn on the roof of his mouth.  “I can’t grow a beard.  Believe me, I tried.  It was just tragic.”  That earned him a loud, honest laugh, and he smiled into his coffee.  “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Ridley deadpanned, hoisting a brown takeaway sack onto her lap.

John rolled his eyes.  “I mean, weren’t you going back to Texas today?”

She nodded.  “This afternoon.  But I couldn’t face my ancestors with a debt unpaid on my conscience.”

John frowned, wrapping both hands around his cup.  “Rids?”

From the larger sack she produced a smaller paper bag.  “I made a bet, I lost the bet, I am now honour-bound to pay up.”

Just as she opened the smaller bag, John had a flash of memory, of handball and trash talk and…”You got me a bear claw?”

She grinned at him and proffered her bag with a flourish.  “Not just any bear claw.  This is the best damn bear claw from the best damn shop in this state.”

The sack was still vaguely warm, the last of the baked in heat ebbing away in the snow-filled air.  John inhaled the scents of dough and powdered sugar and smiled.  “Thankyou,” he said sincerely, waiting for her smile and nod before adding.  “Loser.”

She scraped up the splattering of snow on the bench and hurled it at him.  It disintegrated mid-air. John laughed and tore his doughnut in two, passing one half to her.  She slid to her left to accept as John slid to his right to proffer, and they sat like that, eating and watching the snow fall in companionable silence.

3) It got dark early in London, this time of year.  The shops were crowded with last minute shoppers and those out strolling to admire the lights.  Their favourite cafe was more crowded than usual, the only free table right by the door.  John unbuttoned his coat but left it on, Penny merely loosening her scarf as their drinks arrived.

“So where was I?” Penny asked as John took his first sip.  Here was the only place that got the mix of whip and cream and espresso right; this was part of the treat.

“Sherbert had just bitten him on the….”

“Derriere,” Penny cut in quickly, grinning as the Americanism died on John’s tongue.  “Yes, well, that was just the start of the fun…”

John sipped his ridiculously sugary drink, and laughed at the jokes, and felt his muscles slowly unclench as Penny regaled him with her story.


End file.
